


Steve Rogers the Super Spy

by Insufferable_Rex



Series: Super Soldier Spy Shenanigans [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: (not including the prologue), Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom, Rating May Change, Spy Steve Rogers, Tags May Change, mild crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-21
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-09-23 10:49:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20338891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insufferable_Rex/pseuds/Insufferable_Rex
Summary: Though Steve was exhausted, he made himself look at Erskine as the tube opened. As the steam and smoke cleared, one look at Erskine's face said it all.It had not worked.OR: Erskine's super soldier serum no workie, and Steve has to figure out what the heckin' hecc he's gonna do now. Also, there shall be eventual shenanigans with the Winter Soldier.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [This, You Protect](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1752638) by [owlet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/owlet/pseuds/owlet). 

> You'll see that this work is part of a series... The related prologue is essentially just a scene from later in this fic, so it's not necessary to read it before starting this story.
> 
> Thank you for your interest and support, everyone! :) Without it, this story may have never seen the light of day. Y'all stay swanky!

You could say many things about Steven Grant Rogers, but you couldn't say he was a coward. He never had been, and if that history was any indication, he never would be. Thus, when selected for an experimental medical procedure that would send most running for the hills, Steve just puffed out his chest and stepped into that realm of uncertainty. He wasn't quite prepared for the hidden base or the gaggle of spectators, but he'd faced worse.

Agent Carter took the time to make sure he was alright, to reassure him, and didn't leave his side until prompted by Dr. Erskine. The woman was made of steel, so her genuine concern on his behalf warmed him. In a different life with a different body, he could see himself wooing her, but as it was, he knew he had zero chances. A dame like her wouldn't pine after a little guy like him.

Bucky, bless him, had tried his damnedest to get him a nice girl, but the women who flocked to Bucky treated Steve like a leper. He had as much chance with them as with Agent Carter, which was to say, none at all.

After being strapped down, Steve was poked and prodded, and at least that was something familiar. He didn't generally have enough money to go to the hospital, but the few emergencies that had required it had been memorable, to say the least. Before being locked in the tube, Erskine touched his arm reassuringly, and Steve took deep breaths, his lungs rattling in protest. The procedure itself went by in a blur of blinding light and excruciating pain, and Steve bore it as best he could. The scream that ripped out of him was unbidden, and when it made Agent Carter almost shut the whole thing down halfway through, he gritted his teeth and clenched every muscle in his body to keep it contained.

Though Steve was exhausted, he made himself look at Erskine as the tube opened. The man was brutally honest, and his expressions were usually quite transparent, so he'd know if everything had gone as planned. As the steam and smoke cleared, one look at Erskine's face said it all.

It had not worked.

**********

Steve tried to speak, but the faint, "Doctor?" that escaped his lips was hardly audible.

Erskine shushed him gently, gesturing at the others present to help move Steve. Hands pried him loose from the bindings holding him down, easing him over to a chair that someone had brought over.

Everyone was exceedingly polite, taking great care to make sure he was alright, but Steve could see the disappointment they all harbored. He couldn't bring himself to look up at the observation booth; Agent Carter would show pity, and Colonel Phillips had put his neck on the line to make this project a reality, so he'd be either furious or downcast. Either way, Steve didn't want to see it.

Hopefully it wasn't his fault it hadn't worked. He felt bad enough already.

When the initial shock of failure had worn off, Erskine knelt next to Steve's chair and asked him, "How are you feeling, Steven?"

"I'm fine," he said dismissively, his voice already recovering. He didn't want to think about how he felt.

As if he'd read Steve's mind, Erskine raised an eyebrow and in the most paternal voice, said, "Steven...."

Steve had been victim to that tone of voice many times. Up to the very day she died, his ma had been using it to convince him to do her bidding. Bucky knew that trick as well, and when Steve was being too stubborn and bullheaded, he'd give him The Look and use that voice; it was sugary sweet on top, but beneath was the clear message that he had better quit trying to be a martyr. The fact that Erskine already knew him well enough to know it would work on him could've been embarrassing on a different day.

Feeling chastised, Steve took a second to properly evaluate himself. Sure, he wasn't suddenly six feet tall and hundreds of pounds of muscle, but he felt... good. He'd never felt so healthy before. He took an experimental breath, inhaling as deeply as he could, and then some. Had he ever breathed this deeply in his life without straining and coughing? And, now that he wasn't wallowing in self-pity, he noticed that the room he was in was brighter than before, full of colors he had never seen until today. Everything was sharper; he could see the details on the machines all the way across the room. Unconsciously, he kept taking deep breaths, and the movement pushed his shoulders backwards, straightening his back. His _back_ was _straight_. His back, his lungs, his eyes...

He stared at Erskine, disbelieving, and the man noticed his surprise. "What is it?" he asked, snatching a stethoscope from someone nearby and placing it on Steve's chest.

Too elated to put it into words, Steve could only grin as he stared openly at everything in sight. Erskine gave him instructions and he followed them unconsciously, lifting his arms or breathing or whatever else he was asked to do. He was eventually snapped out of his reverie by the ever patient Erskine.

"Talk to me, Steven," he said gently. "What changes have you noticed?"

Steve described his new vision, both that it had sharpened and he was no longer colorblind, as well as his back and lungs. "Maybe there's more, but those are the most obvious differences," he added when Erskine's subtly distressed facial expression didn't disappear.

Erskine, sharp as ever, looked Steve in the eye after that comment. Solemnly, he placed a hand on Steve's shoulder, squeezing it gently as reassurance. "This is good," he murmured. "I am very glad of this. You will tell me if you notice anything more, yes?"

"Of course."

Only nodding in reply, Erskine released Steve's shoulder to pat it softly. The man took a steadying breath, then turned up to look at the observation booth. It was empty now, except for Agent Carter, but Erskine followed procedure anyway, taking up the microphone from before to report what had occurred. Steve stared up at Agent Carter while she listened to the news, admiring the strikingly bright lipstick on her lips that an hour ago had been dull. It was another color he hadn't seen before. Generally, when people (usually Bucky) talked about women wearing lipstick, it was described as being in tones of red. Was that what red looked like? Steve couldn't stop staring.

When Agent Carter did finally make eye contact with him, the first since after the procedure, Steve saw no pity in her gaze like he had expected. She looked genuinely happy to hear of Steve's newfound health, and while her shoulders were not quite as squared as usual, her face held a small but honest smile.

She left the booth and descended into the lab, crossing to Steve immediately, and he got to his feet to meet her. She still towered over him, but something about it was not quite as intimidating as before.

"How do you feel?" she asked.

Unfortunately, the serum had not magically enhanced Steve's ability to speak to beautiful dames, so he could only manage a short response of, "Better. I feel better."

**********

The lab techs took the time to give Steve a full physical with his new body, but Erskine and Howard Stark had disappeared somewhere. Agent Carter had stayed behind, whether for moral support or something else Steve couldn't say. When the physical was deemed completed, she stood and beckoned Steve to her side, leading him through a door out of the lab.

"I hope you don't have plans for the next week or two," she said, a slight tilt to her vibrant red lips.

Dr. Erskine had made it clear that, after the experiment was completed, successful or not, Steve wouldn't be allowed to leave for a while, purely for the sake of observation. They had to see how the serum had affected his body. Steve shook his head, saying, "No, ma'am."

Agent Carter went on to explain that, yes, he was more or less going to be locked up in this place for a bit to gather additional data. Steve didn't mind. It was a more than fair exchange for all that he'd gained from the serum.

That meant that, a week and a half later, when Erskine had prepared more of the serum, Steve was present when another experiment was conducted. As a final effort for the project to succeed, Colonel Phillips had convinced Erskine to use the serum on Hodge, his original candidate. Hodge wasn't particularly impressive apart from his stature, but perhaps Erskine's formula would be more effective with a more physically gifted subject.

The observation booth was nowhere near as full as it had been the first time. Steve was allowed to watch, sitting between Agent Carter and Colonel Phillips. There were two government officials there, one old and portly, the other a younger man with a perfectly straight nose, lips pressed together in a thin line, and eyes fixed intently on the experiment unfolding below. While the man was slightly off-putting, Steve guessed that, like Colonel Phillips, he must have gotten some reprimand for supporting a failed project. Like everyone else present, he was probably hoping for success.

Poor Dr. Erskine was clearly nervous this time around, his work under even harsher scrutiny than before. Hodge was led to the tube, strapped down and injected with the serum like Steve had been. When the vita-rays were activated and Stark increased their intensity, Steve winced empathetically. Hodge howled in pain, and both Howard and Erskine looked up at the observation booth, seeking instruction on what to do next. When Steve had been in the tube, they had wanted to shut it down but only continued because he had assured them he could handle the pain. Hodge wasn't speaking and wasn't consenting to continue, but he _had_ submitted to participating in the project. In the end, Colonel Phillips nodded sternly, and Stark and Erskine kept working, everyone doing their best to ignore the wails of agony coming from the glowing tube.

As with Steve, the electricity eventually gave out, the power grid only capable of taking so much abuse. This time, however, the results of the experiment were much more pronounced. As the tube opened, Steve quietly gasped upon seeing Hodge. He had actually bulked up, his muscles almost obscenely large. Colonel Phillips was silent, but Steve could sense the anticipation emanating from the man. If this could actually be counted as a success, the project would be saved.

Steve was probably the only person who wasn't glad to see the results of the experiment this time around. It only left him with a bitter taste in his mouth. Maybe it really had been his fault that everything had gone wrong originally.

Hodge was led from the tube and into the hands of the lab technicians, many of whom were already taking measurements and recording everything eagerly. He was clearly as exhausted as Steve had been, but he shrugged off what he could, trying to stand without assistance. One of the techs refused to let go, however, certain that Hodge needed support.

Irritation was clear as day on Hodge's face, and he shoved the tech away so hard that the man crashed into and then flipped over one of the nearby control consoles.

Everyone was on their feet in a moment, not quite sure how to respond to what they had just witnessed, but when Hodge grinned and reached for the next tech, Steve threw open the door of the booth and careened down the stairs to intercept him.

Invigorated by his newfound power, Hodge began swinging at anyone within arm's reach, knocking many down as they attempted to calm him. Clearly, the man needed to subdued, but no one could get close enough to do anything. Steve, upon reaching him, knew immediately what needed to be done. He'd fought many men larger than himself over the years (in fact, they'd all been larger than him), and while he wasn't good for much other than giving those men some exercise, he had been in enough scuffles to have learned a few things. He leapt at Hodge's feet, tangling himself in the man's legs. Hodge was three or four times his size, but he'd put enough force into the tackle that Hodge tottered uncertainly before falling roughly to the floor.

The surrounding techs, along with Stark and Erskine, and even Agent Carter and Colonel Phillips who had come down behind Steve, immediately followed Steve's example, multiple people restraining each of Hodge's limbs. Hodge struggled, flailing and kicking, and one of his bare feet caught Steve right in the nose.

Steve had also been in enough fights to know when his nose had been broken. Though he'd experienced the shock of it before, his body reeled back of its own accord, separating him from the danger. When he struggled to his feet to help again, however, a couple of techs had taken his place, holding down Hodge's legs, and Steve would only get in their way.

Watching for any chance to help again, Steve stood just to the side of the scuffle with a hand clasped over his bleeding nose, feeling the damaged cartilage. He noticed the younger government official standing on the staircase, as if he'd come to help as well, but Steve was just as unnerved by the man as before. When he reached into his jacket pocket, Steve blanched. Did this man mean to kill Hodge? While Hodge was being belligerent, he had done nothing to be killed for.

Just as Steve went to put himself between the man and Hodge, the observation room exploded in a shower of smoke and glass. As much as the sudden explosion startled Steve and made his ears ring, he did not take his eyes off of the man before him, and the man did not deviate from his target either. His hand left his jacket, a gun clasped within it, and Steve acted before things could escalate any further. The man aimed, his finger on the trigger, and Steve flung himself into the space between the man and the group tangled on the floor. While the man's eyes widened fractionally, there was not enough reaction time for him to release the trigger or aim elsewhere, and Steve's ears filled with noise as the gun went off.

The bullet caught him in his chest, just below his collarbone, and it took everything Steve had not to tumble to the floor as he took the impact. He heard noise and movement behind him, but he paid it no heed, focusing on his now shaking legs, trying to stay upright. The man aimed again, attempting to shoot past Steve, and Steve got another bullet in his chest instead, having swayed to block the shot once more. Steve's head swam, pain and confusion and determination making a muddled mess of his thoughts.

The man didn't take another shot, but Steve's newly improved hearing suffered more abuse when a different gun went off, this time from behind him. The man suddenly staggered, his knee having been shot clean through and no longer able to support his weight. Steve knew he'd been injured himself, probably gravely so, but his strength was already returning to him. If anyone was to confront the armed and dangerous man, shouldn't it be the guy that'd already been shot?

With such a mindset in place, Steve lurched forward as the man attempted to limp up the stairs, and to his surprise, he caught up before the attacker had even reached the observation booth. Steve grasped the first thing he could, the stranger's jacket, holding him by the elbows. Lashing out in retaliation, Steve was struck by a flurry of powerful backward blows, aimed to incapacitate. Steve was nothing if not stubborn, however, and bore it all with gritted teeth, even when the man harshly reached back and pressed a thumb into the bullet hole by his collarbone. To counter him in return, Steve kicked the man, aiming right for his destroyed knee, and hit him spot on. The strike must have been painful, because the man lost his grip on the railing, and the two of them fell down the stairs to the landing, Steve thankfully ending up on top. The attacker also lost his grip on his gun in the process, and the weapon skittered out of reach.

Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw backup arriving; he couldn't hear them over the sound of blood rushing through his ears or the ringing that hadn't stopped since the explosion. Like with Hodge, many pairs of hands helped Steve hold the man down, and he only struggled against them briefly.

Because Steve couldn't hear well at the moment, he resorted to lip reading (which he'd had to master before the serum) when the stranger's lips began to move. Thus, after the man had said, "Cut off one head," Steve was watching his mouth closely enough that he saw the white object that suddenly sat on the man's tongue. Without any moment of thought or hesitation, he stuck his hand into that mouth, grabbing the white pellet within. Steve couldn't say for certain how he had deduced what the thing was, had never seen the like before, but he knew that the object clutched in his fingers was deadly, and the man meant to use it on himself.

The man's eyes widened, his cold, emotionless mask cracking for the first time, and he clamped his teeth on Steve's fingers so hard that Steve was sure they would break. It was a struggle to free them, but Steve had backup now, and they all worked together to pry open the man's mouth. Someone had fetched a syringe, filled with something Steve couldn't identify, but when it was injected into the arm of the body beneath him, the man's eyes grew unfocused and he fell unconscious.

With the crisis averted at last, Hodge having been subdued as well, Agent Carter grabbed Steve by the shoulders, glancing down at his injuries before staring intently at his face. His ears had finally recovered somewhat, so he heard her ask, "Steve?" in a surprisingly calm voice. "Are you alright?"

He wanted to point out the fact that he'd been shot twice, so no, he was clearly not alright, but he knew his mother would have washed his mouth out with soap for taking such a tone with a lady. Instead, he figured he'd lighten the mood like Bucky always did with dames, so he chuckled breathily, saying, "It's not as bad as it looks, Agent Carter." This wasn't an entirely false statement, as while the initial shock of being shot was painful, the aftermath was practically mild in comparison. If he were to be blunt, it wasn't anywhere near as painful as his worst beatings had been. Perhaps getting shot filed you with more adrenaline than getting kicked in the ribs until they broke. After all, he'd now had experience with both.

The smile Agent Carter gave him for his comment was a complex one, simultaneously amused and worried. "Let's have you checked out anyway, yes?" she said, grasping his arm and helping him down the stairs, back into the lab. Steve went, partly because he was injured, but partly because he knew fighting Agent Carter was an exercise in futility, and he wasn't quite in a position to be as stubborn as usual.

When they reached an exam room and Agent Carter had fetched a nurse, she left Steve alone, to allow him privacy. Steve removed his shirt for the male nurse, moving gingerly to avoid exacerbating his wounds, and the nurse took the bloodstained fabric from his hands. Steve was wiped down - the blood having obscured his injuries - and he was examined, but when the nurse at last stood back, he said, "Well, Mr. Rogers, looks like you have some light bruising on your chest and fingers, and your nose might be a little tender, but that's the worst of your injuries. Your bloodied nose probably made it all appear much more serious than it really was, dripping on your clothes like that."

Steve stared at the nurse blankly for a moment, sure he had not heard correctly, but the nurse simply waited patiently for a response. "You're serious," Steve commented, shocked by how calm the other man was. "Buddy, I got _shot_. _Twice_. And I have some _light bruising_!?"

The nurse was clearly surprised by Steve's outburst, so Steve made an effort to calm himself. The nurse took that moment to quickly look over Steve's body again, searching for what he may have missed. "Do you know where the bullets hit you, Mr. Rogers?"

He made to point to his collarbone, glancing down to make sure he was showing the nurse the right place, but his hand stopped midway, hovering unsteadily in the air. Steve remembered the gun going off, remembered the impact the bullet had made when it had hit his chest, but his skin appeared just as the nurse described it. There was no open wound, only darkened skin where a bruise had appeared. His fingers, which had practically been bitten off, were only slightly purple. Tentatively, Steve touched his nose as well. It was tender, like the nurse had said it would be, but when Steve tweaked it from one side to the other, it didn't move unnaturally like it would if it was truly broken. He'd fiddled with his own broken nose enough in the past to be familiar with the feeling.

Alarmed, Steve glanced at the nurse, who was watching Steve with a clinical level of concern. Trying not to stutter, Steve quietly said, "Maybe... I could've been mistaken. Sorry to worry you."

The other man just smiled lightly, saying that sometimes injuries sustained in combat were interpreted by the brain as being much more serious than they actually were. He gave Steve some cream to put on his bruises and was advised to be gentle with his nose, just in case.

Steve didn't need the cream. Within an hour, the bruises were gone entirely.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for extremely brief mentions of racism.
> 
> Also, I've not served any time in the military and all of my knowledge of such matters comes from a combination of Hollywood and Google. If anything comes off as too unrealistic, just pretend this is yet another Hollywood-esque soldier story ‾\\_(ツ)_/‾

Since the lab had been infiltrated by some sort of special agent, who was now in custody, its security was in question, and the operation was moved to the boot camp where Steve had been training before the experiment. Colonel Phillips got back to work, watching over the latest batch of recruits; Agent Carter went back to doing... whatever it was she did with her time (Steve didn't have the clearance to know what sorts of things she did as an agent); and Dr. Erskine holed himself up in an office, poring over his work to see where things had gone south.

He wasn't sure what they'd done with Hodge, but Steve was kept under observation for a couple more weeks to see if the serum would change anything else with a little time. Still, nothing new happened. Everyone was disappointed, but none more than Steve. He felt as if he'd taken advantage of Colonel Phillips and Erskine, and while he knew that that wasn't the case, it didn't keep him from berating himself. He over-analyzed every single thing he experienced, hoping against hope that he'd improve in some other way, but every day that the techs and nurses took his measurements and tested him, it was all the same. Whenever he thought back to the injuries he'd sustained back in the lab and how quickly they'd healed, he simply chalked it up to having been some sort of stress-induced fever dream.

To keep him from getting too restless, Agent Carter took him to the range a few times. Now that he could actually see what he was supposed to be shooting at, his accuracy dramatically improved. Given feedback by Agent Carter, he quickly memorized the correct stances, the right way to hold the different styles of weapons, and the inner mechanisms of each gun to make reloading as efficient as possible. Agent Carter praised him on how well he was doing, and while that certainly raised his spirits, it wasn't enough to fully lift the gloom hanging over his head.

When it was clear that nothing new was forthcoming, Dr. Erskine announced that the experiment was over and that Steve was free to go. Steve wasn't quite sure what to do with himself, now that it was done, but Colonel Phillips didn't let him flounder for long. The colonel slung an arm around his shoulders, seeming less like a friendly gesture and more like a way to steer Steve around and keep him from running away.

"Well, son, I know you're disappointed by this mess, but I have a proposition for you," he started in his terse way of speaking. "Technically, you're free to go, but now that you're as healthy as a horse, I want you to enlist. You didn't get much bigger, but at least it doesn't look like a breeze will bowl you over anymore."

Before Steve could interject to tell the colonel that yes, of course he'd enlist, the man continued. "Because this experiment... didn't work as intended," he said carefully, "I'm being sent back to the front lines. I want you to come with me. Knowing how gutsy you are, I know you'll do some good out there."

"Thank you, Sir," Steve said. "It'd be an honor to keep working with you. You can count on me."

"I know I can." The man gave Steve a simple, close-lipped smile, but receiving such a look from him felt like the highest praise. "Let's get on with it then. We've got a long trip ahead of us."

**********

On the journey overseas, Colonel Phillips surprised Steve by telling him he'd been promoted to the rank of Sergeant, being given a higher ranking so quickly because of his "exemplary performance to date." Steve honestly felt like he'd barely earned it, but when he pressed the issue, the colonel refused to budge. So, in spite of his nerves and feelings of inadequacy, he took his new role extremely seriously. These men were his charges, and he was responsible for them.

The first couple of days were rough; Steve was smaller than every single person on his team, and it took them a bit to take him seriously. He made sure they knew he meant business, so it didn't take long for them to come to respect him as their superior. Steve kept them in line, but he had compassion on them. If they followed his commands, kept their spaces and uniforms clean, and were generally respectful, Steve gave them plenty of recreational time to let them relax and bond. Eventually, they even welcomed Steve into these quiet (or sometimes quite rambunctious) moments. It wasn't common for superior officers to be so buddy-buddy with their men, but they'd come to love their spitfire sergeant.

With the higher morale, his men were more willing to put in extra work, training more than any of their fellow soldiers, and, while the change was gradual at first, Steve's little group of less-than-average Joes began to excel under his leadership. Steve regularly told his men how proud he was of their progress; if a big, tough man like Colonel Phillips did this, it'd come off as insincere and mocking, but to these men, the encouragement of itty bitty Steve actually made them feel proud and they'd stand a little taller.

Speaking of the colonel, he approached Steve out of the blue one day to tell him he was planning on promoting Steve _again_, this time to Second Lieutenant, and Steve was absolutely gobsmacked. "Colonel, Sir, I don't - "

Before he could properly protest, the colonel silenced him with a scathing look. "Son, I'm not doing this on a whim," he snapped, not used to having his authority so blatantly challenged. "I don't tend to regret the choices I make, and I certainly don't plan to make it a habit starting today."

Gritting his teeth to keep himself quiet, Steve quietly acknowledged the colonel. "Yes, Sir." After just a moment of hesitation, he added, "May I at least ask why you're promoting me?"

"Numbers don't lie, son, and your band of misfits has gone from cannon fodder to special forces material in only a couple months' time. You're doing something right with those boys, and I want to expand your sphere of influence."

Hearing those words from Colonel Phillips, a man not prone to giving compliments, almost left Steve reeling. He wasn't doing much, just encouraging his men and pushing them to try their hardest. Surely the other sergeants were doing the same. Steve opened his mouth as if he planned to protest yet again, but the colonel narrowed his eyes and Steve wisely kept his thoughts to himself, for once.

The change was both drastic and subtle, if that were possible. While Steve was suddenly in charge of many more people, the original group of troops made the new batch respect Steve instantly, and continued to make him feel welcome. He was still invited to join them when playing cards or singing or roughhousing or telling somber stories of home. Steve couldn't begin to fathom how he'd earned this opportunity, to have these men at his back, but every single day he did his damnedest not to take it for granted.

One of his men had been promoted to fill the space he'd left vacant, and Steve was pleased to see how the man, Thomas Wilson, filled his shoes. Wilson was well liked by nearly everyone; off-duty, he was energetic and rowdy, cracking jokes and smiling brightly. Steve could imagine that Wilson had been a bit of a class-clown back in the States. Here, he was the chief morale-booster, and people turned to him to lift their spirits, which he always seemed more than happy to do. In spite of his rambunctiousness, however, he took to being a sergeant like a fish to water. His and Steve's styles of leadership were vastly different, Steve's being serious and Wilson's being lighthearted, but Wilson garnered the same sort of respect and obedience as Steve.

There were some folks who didn't like Wilson purely because he was a man of color, but Steve made sure that that behavior wasn't tolerated. When he was aimlessly patrolling camp one evening and overheard two men using particularly derogatory language about Wilson, he marched them both directly to the colonel and asked for them to be dishonorably discharged. The colonel didn't consider their offence to be quite that grievous, but he understood that Steve was trying to make a point; he and Steve bargained back and forth until it was decided that the two men would, at the very least, be transferred elsewhere and be stripped of any rankings they currently held, starting them back at the bottom of the totem pole, so to speak. Steve then made certain that, rather than speculation and lies being spread as to why the two offenders were leaving, he gathered all of his men and announced the truth of the matter. He would not allow any disrespectful behavior of the sort, and made that very clear.

After the announcement, Wilson came up to Steve and, uncharacteristically quiet, thanked him for what he'd done. Steve, uncertain of how to reply to such wholehearted gratitude, simply murmured, "Don't sweat it, Wilson. I was just doing what was right."

Somehow, that only seemed to make Wilson put him higher on a pedestal.

**********

In a conversation he wasn't privy to, two individuals discussed Second Lieutenant Rogers.

"Well, Agent Carter, what do you think of your golden boy?" the colonel asked the sharply-dressed woman before him.

They'd just finished reviewing Rogers' progress, both for himself alone and for his troops, and if the quirk of Agent Carter's eyebrow was any indication, she was visibly impressed by what she was seeing. "He's grown leaps and bounds since I last checked in," she quietly exclaimed. The last time she'd gotten a full report had been nearly two months ago now, and the progress was startling.

She regarded Colonel Phillips for a moment, and he stared back, both of them thinking the same thing. Was this an effect of Erskine's serum? Had it done more than just strengthen Rogers' frail body after all? While the project had been ended and was no longer extremely top secret, neither individual seemed to want to mention their hypotheses, as if doing so was the equivalent of opening Pandora's Box. Had the serum given Rogers some sort of authoritative aura that he hadn't had before, or was it just that he was finally physically well enough for his existing moral strength to fully blossom? There wasn't enough evidence either way, but it was certainly something worth investigating more closely.

After the lengthy silence, Agent Carter broke it by asking, "Have you considered promoting him again?"

Colonel Phillips raised an eyebrow, "He's only been a Second Lieutenant for about a month, Agent Carter." After making that statement, the colonel huffed in amusement. "But yes, I've thought about promoting him again. It's a marvel to watch him lead these boys. Still, I don't know if there's enough justification quite yet to do so."

Agent Carter was about to voice her thoughts on that matter, but the sound of an explosion completely muffled her voice.

The colonel's tent shook violently from the ensuing shock wave and the night was lit up with the bloody light of fire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry (not sorry) for the cliffhanger! Also, anyone care to guess who that new sergeant is? It's probably kinda obvious haha so maybe it's not much of a puzzle ^^;;;
> 
> Comments give my muse life, so let me know your thoughts in general :)

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'll be real, I have no set posting schedule whatsoever, though I'll try my best not to leave y'all hanging (I plan on finishing this work, it's just a matter of trudging through the writing process). Basically, if you're interested in this story, go ahead and subscribe so you're notified when a new chapter is posted.
> 
> If there are any missing tags or anything, you're always welcome to let me know.


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